


Might Just Die

by replayongs



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Detective, Fantasy, Horror, M/M, Minor Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong, Minor Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Supernatural - Freeform, Thriller, Zombie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 01:31:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15763854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/replayongs/pseuds/replayongs
Summary: Na Jaemin went missing and was never found, not even his body. Seventy years on, novice detective Lee Jeno finds a trace to where the boy could have gone.Never would he have thought that the boy could still be alive.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> NAMED AFTER HISTORY’S “MIGHT JUST DIE”

**June 06, 1945**

_"Na Jaemin was quite out of the ordinary. From a distance, he looked like any other teenage boy—a single child, the pride and joy of the parents, handsome, smart, diligent. If you looked closer, he'd look more like a bit of a delinquent. Skipping school and church, cussing out quite often and letting his grades drop. If you looked past that delinquency and delved into the life of Na Jaemin, one would be able to see that he was incredibly different. Not different in a unique or special sense, but judged as different by society. Nobody but Jaemin knew about his sexual orientation. He did tell me, but it took time._

_“Being gay in a world that didn't accept anything out of the ordinary was quite hard, but not impossible. Jaemin made it work._

_“I remember the first night I saw him—he was a fresh, fifteen-year-old, newly-gay boy walking into the underground gay club I worked at. He told me that he had scoured the city for it. From the outside, it seemed like a simple run-down bar. But inside, it was a safe haven for those like him—those who were homosexual._

_“He told me that he never really fit in at school or with his family. He wasn't into sports nor was he uptight and holy like the rest of society was—he was carefree and open, loving the idea of thrills and, well, making out with the same gender._

_“And that's how he found himself here every night, leaving with a new man each night. He knew he was pretty, and he knew he could get a fully-grown man to wrap himself around his little finger, so that usually gave him the upper hand when flirting. He'd often get drunk, too, but only on Friday and Saturday nights. He'd always sneak back home at dawn before his parents awoke. He held his alcohol quite well, and never seemed to get hungover._

_“Jaemin loved going out, and even after three years, he still couldn't deny the adrenaline that pumped through his body at the thought of making out with someone new every night, or trying not to be caught by his parents or by society._

_“To him, it was exhilarating._

_“But this particular day, Jaemin's parents found out that Jaemin had been skipping school and that his grades were well below average. He was hit with a belt at home, the leather marking the flawless skin of his back. He was screamed at, cussed at, before being damned by his father._

_“It hurt him. Jaemin may not fit in well with his family, but he did love them. And to hear his own Catholic father calling him the devil's spawn and telling him to crawl back into hell was quite hurtful._

_“He ran here to the club. And he stayed here, not touching the alcohol not even once. A few men, frequents, tried to flirt with him, tried to get him up, but Jaemin was miserable and refused. Eventually, I told the men to just back off and leave the boy alone. I worked here almost every night, and I was like Jaemin's therapist. He'd tell me everything about his life, from his family, to his dates—everything._

_“I had a soft spot for the teenager, and I would often let him drink for free, despite being underage. I too knew of the struggles of not fitting in, since I myself am gay, so I could empathise with Jaemin, which in turn would make the younger feel so much better._

_“This night, after not touching alcohol or talking to anyone (save for telling me about his parents), Jaemin finally asked for a drink, a shot of vodka. I, of course, obliged. It was about 12:30 in the morning, and the club was beginning to clear out._

_“Jaemin took the shot with ease—he could drink perhaps ten of these before he actually got tipsy. He slammed the shot glass down on the bar, asking for another. Once again, I obliged. I slid the glass over to Jaemin, but the younger was distracted by some shouting that was going on further into the club._

_“Sighing heavily, I had taken off to go handle the situation. I looked back to Jaemin after sorting out the scuffle, and he looked dead-drunk. He fell off the barstool, stumbling around. I raced up to him, speaking to him. It was strange—it usually took him nine to ten shots to actually get drunk—and at this moment, he was completely wasted._

_“He blankly looked at me, clearly not hearing me. His eyes rolled back into his head and his knees buckled. Two arms from a stranger in a black mask behind him wrapped around him tightly, the man extremely tall and lanky. With a muffled and Chinese-accented voice, he told me that he was going to take Jaemin home. I asked who he was, and he said he was a friend of Jaemin's from school._

_“I honestly thought nothing of it. So, I let them go. I watched him pick up an unconscious Jaemin and carry him out in his arms._

_“I never saw Jaemin again."_

_-_ **witness statement from Park Jungsoo, AKA Leeteuk,**

**owner and bartender of Super Junior nightclub.**

 

Police concluded that Na Jaemin had gotten drunk and been kidnapped. Detectives believed he was drugged. Nobody had seen Jaemin since that day, June 6th. The police questioned everyone, investigating everyone. But nothing turned up. The last time Jaemin was seen alive was at 12:30am on the 6th of June.

Weeks began to roll by, and nothing ever became of the case. The lead went cold, and his family gave up hope. The weeks turned into months, and nothing. Not a trace. Not even his body was found. They had no leads, no trace, to where he had gone.

Even after all these years, detectives are still trying to find some sort of closure to what happened to Na Jaemin. Seventy years on, novice detective Lee Jeno and partner, Lee Mark, were assigned to find out why and how Na Jaemin vanished without a trace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote the prologue because I thought a witness statement would suit the prologue much better. Sorry for being confusing!!


	2. 01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I might just die (right here)  
> I might just die (like this)  
> I might just die (right here)  
> I might just die (like this)  
> — "Might Just Die", HISTORY

**March 17th, 2015**

Jeno swiped his sunglasses off his nose, folding them and tucking them into his pocket. White earbuds were tucked into his ears, HISTORY's "Might Just Die" blasting. He hummed along as he stepped into the pristine police station.

It always marvelled him how clean the station was—squeaky clean floors, polished glass, no scuff marks or blood anywhere. Considering this was where police dragged criminals in kicking and screaming, it was exceptionally clean.

He walked to the door that lead to the main office of the station, holding his brand-new ID to the scanner to unlock the door. The door swung open and he briskly walked inside.

He bowed his head in respect as he let a few "hello's" and "good morning's" slip as he greeted his fellow officers and detectives.

Barely out of university, twenty-one-year-old Lee Jeno was the novice prodigy detective who scored the highest marks in criminal law and law enforcements in the history of Monash University. So, with that under his belt, he was accepted almost immediately into the police force at Samdeok-dong's police station.

He was ecstatic, bubbling with excitement, akin to a child starting school for the first time. It was exhilarating.

He was going to get his first assignment today and find out who his partner is. He was excited, walking into the officer with a skip in his step. He walked to the chief's office and rapped his knuckles on the door. A muffled voice yelled from the other side to enter, and Jeno plastered on his award-winning smile and opened the door. 

He stepped into the office and froze. 

"M-Mark?" he questioned, shocked. Said boy with thin eyebrows turned to face Jeno fully, eyes blown wide. 

"Jeno?!" he shrieked, voice still pathetically high. Jeno winced, closing the door behind him and walking in to stand beside the older male. The chief rested his elbows bent up on the desk, lower half of his face hidden by his clasped hands. He raised a brow comically, lip quirking up. 

"I see you both know each other," Chief Seo grinned, leaning back in his chair and letting his hands rest over his stomach. Jeno and Mark both nod simultaneously. "Both went to Monash?"

"No Sir, we went to high school together," Mark said, shooting a small glance to Jeno. 

"Ah, so you were acquainted then?" 

"Yes Sir, we were best friends," Jeno said softly, his smile long gone now. It'd been four years since he'd seen Mark. Mark was in the year above him in school, but Jeno left in year 10 to pursue a career in the police force. Due to his exceptionally high scores in his exams, he had been accepted into Monash at a believably young age and graduated from said university with the highest credits and scores. 

Mark, on the other hand, was not as smart and really had to work for all his average scores. The last time the two spoke was when Jeno was accepted into Monash at sixteen, the youngest ever to be accepted into that university. Mark was unbelievably jealous, as that was the university he wanted to go to. The two fought and never saw each other again.

Until now. 

Jeno was extremely shocked and surprised to see his former best friend standing beside him at Samdeok-dong Police Station five years later. 

"That means you should work well together," the chief interrupted Jeno's inner monologue, standing to his feet and towering over the two novices. "You both graduated your respected universities as detectives and were both accepted here to do just that. So, your partners will be each other."

Mark choked, eyes blowing wide. "A-are you serious?" 

Chief Seo sent him a small glare, placing his hands on his hips. "Yes, Mark. Listen, outside of work I'm your friend, but in here when I'm in this uniform and when you wear that badge, I am your boss," he said sharply, "don't forget that." 

Mark bowed his head and nodded quickly. "Y-yes Sir." 

"Good." The chief's lips quirked up in a small smile. "Now then, I don't need to introduce you to each other, so I'll take you straight to your shared office." He walked around the desk and briskly left the office, beckoning the two to follow him. They did, Mark on the older's heels, Jeno trailing behind him. 

He lead them into a small yet spacious room with two desks set up against the walls. Desktops sat upon the desks, adorned with a potted plant on one desk. Two leather chairs with high backs and wheels sat in front of the desks. A bare whiteboard was hanging on one wall, and a blank hessian board was hanging on the opposite wall, adjacent to the door. 

"This will be your office. You can decorate it however you like," Chief Seo said, gesturing to the bare and plain room. "You will have access to all the files that are down in the basement and the ones on the system." Jeno sat on one of the chairs—it was really comfortable. "Get comfy, I'll be right back with your first assignment." With that, the tall policeman walked out of the office, closing the door softly behind him. 

The room was engulfed in uncomfortable silence. Jeno toyed with the strings of his pullover hoodie, biting his lip. 

"So..." he mumbled, trying to break the tense atmosphere. Mark looked at him from where he leant against the opposite desk, eyebrows raised. "You got in?" Mark snorted, running a hand through his light brown hair. 

"Yeah right," he muttered. "I got into Charles Sturt University—a much lesser-known university," he frowned, shooting Jeno a glare. "I'm not smart like you. Unlike you, I worked my ass off to try to get into Monash, but they rejected me. So, I ended up being accepted into Charles Sturt after I turned nineteen." 

Jeno sighed loudly. "I may be smart, Mark, but I still worked for everything. We went over this." 

Mark glared at him, crossing his arms across his chest. "You only wanted to be a detective after I told you I wanted to become one," 

"Not true, I wanted to become one after watching Underbelly and Criminal Minds," Jeno snapped back, leaning forwards in his seat. Mark groaned, throwing his head back. 

"Listen, Jeno, just keep your mouth shut, okay?" he said in an oddly tight voice, staring blankly at the ceiling. "I don't want to fight with you anymore. I missed you these past few years and..." he trailed off, swallowing thickly. His Adam's apple bobbed and he turned his head to look directly at Jeno. "It was my fault, for arguing with you in the first place. I wanted to apologise but...you changed your number. I don't know if it was because of me, but I felt like shit, and I was too much of a coward to face you and apologise face-to-face." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "And now that I'm here, in the job I've worked so hard for and wanted more than anything, I'm kinda glad you're my partner." 

Jeno smiled, standing to his feet. He walked over to the older yet shorter male, holding his hand out. "I'm sorry too," he offered a kind smile that had Mark's own lips twitching in a smile. He placed his hand in Jeno's, and the younger pulled him in for a bone-crushing hug. "I've missed you too, and I'm so happy you're my partner. I can't hold grudges, and you know that." 

Mark laughed, patting Jeno's back as he pulled away. "Yeah, me neither. And you know me, I'm an oblivious idiot." 

"You're not wrong there," 

"You weren't supposed to agree!" Mark playfully hit Jeno on the arm, then grabbed said arm. "Holy fuck, you've got muscles!" He gasped, squeezing at the thick yet small muscles of Jeno's bicep. Jeno just laughed. 

"I've been working out," he grinned. "I think you've shrunk, hyung~" He teased, winking. He laughed at the offended look Mark shot him. 

"I haven't shrunk, you've just grown!" he hit Jeno's arm again. "You aren't even that much taller than me!" 

"I'm still taller." 

The door opened, and the two silenced immediately. The chief walked in with a thick folder in his arms, and he dumped it onto one desk with a loud bang. Jeno and Mark flinched and watched in astonishment as dust rose from where the file slammed onto the desk. Chief Seo waved it away, coughing softly. 

"Okay, so, your first assignment is a missing person." 

Jeno and Mark exchange excited glances. 

"Except," the two looked to the Chief, now curious, "this case hasn't been solved in seventy years." 

Jeno and Mark's mouths fell agape, eyes blowing wide. 

"Wh-what? Then why are you giving to us, Sir?" Mark stuttered quickly, staring down at the dusty file. Chief Seo sighed softly. 

"The case is still open, despite going cold," he scrubbed a hand through his shaggy brown hair. "I'm sure you guys can find some sort of lead to at least bring closure to his case." 

"How?" Jeno questioned, slightly irritated. He didn't want to do research on an almost century-old cold case, he wanted to solve murder mysteries that were recent. "How can we do that, exactly, Sir?" His tone was slightly mocking. "If professionals across seven decades can't figure it out, then how can we, two novice detectives fresh from uni," he gestures to himself and Mark, "find anything?" 

The chief sighed. "I have faith in you both. We haven't closed this case--we at least want to try and find the body, or, by now, the remains." 

Jeno crossed his arms, exhaling deeply. "Of course. We'll try our best, Sir." 

The chief sent him a small smile. "You have access to all our resources and can use the cars if you need to go somewhere, okay?" He said, and the two boys nodded. "Probably start with brushing up with the case with these files here," he pat the dusty pile of files, "then find some more files in the basement from previous detectives, okay?" 

"Yes Sir," Jeno and Mark chorused together, and Chief Seo grinned. 

"Good," he placed his hands on his hips. "You got your work cut out for you. There are no set hours to work, but I guess just make it from 7am to 5pm." He looked to the boys. "Sound good enough?" 

"Yes Sir," Jeno nodded. 

"Okay then," he opened the door. "I've got a hot date tonight, so I'll take my leave. Good luck guys," he smiled broadly, "I believe in you." 

And with that, he closed the door. The room was consumed in silence, but it was not tense like earlier. 

"You really think we can do it?" Mark questioned, taking a few files from the pile and dumping it on his desk on the opposite side of the room. Jeno sat back in the chair, flipping open a file. 

"I think we can at least find a lead," Jeno answered, slipping his glasses out from his bag which hung from a peg on the side of the desk. "Firstly, you wanna decorate the room a bit? It's a bit bland, don't you think?" 

Mark grinned, grabbing his shoulder bag and swinging it onto his shoulder. "Hell yeah, let's go." 

 

* * *

 

Jeno sat in his shared office with Mark going through files and flipping through old records, and just going over old things that previous detectives had dug up. 

They had found out that on June 06, 1945, eighteen-year-old Na Jaemin went missing without a trace from an underground gay club. Nobody was charged, no lead was ever found—he just vanished. Jeno felt kind of bad for the kid—he obviously met foul play, and to know that the killer was never brought to justice just kind of made his heart hurt. 

He flicked through a file, one of a witness statement from Park Jinsoo (or Leeteuk), the owner and bartender for the club that Jaemin frequented at. He learnt quite a bit about the boy from this statement alone, and it was only the second one he read. 

"Apparently he used to sneak out at night and go to underground gay clubs, the most frequent one being Super Junior," Jeno said, rubbing his temple. "He'd get wasted and would often stay the night at some stranger's house and sneak back home before his parents woke up."

"I imagine his parents denied this?" Mark asked absentmindedly, closing yet another file of documents on Na Jaemin. Jeno nodded, adjusting his glasses.

"Yeah, they did, but their statement was overturned by the owners of said clubs and men he slept with." He answered quickly, frowning. "He was a bit of a tramp, huh?"

Mark snorted. "According to these photographs," the older holds up a black and white faded photograph of Jaemin, "he was pretty."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Jeno snapped, snatching the photograph. He studied the picture—the boy was pretty, but Jeno wasn't going to admit that. From the photograph, he could see that the boy was young, with flawless skin and dark lips with soft, fluffy hair.

"It has to do with everything, No," Mark pouted. "With his looks, he was able to get older guys to do what he wanted. And as a hormonal teenager with that kind of power, how would he be able to refuse a good fuck?"

Jeno slapped Mark on the arm. Mark poked his tongue out. "Speaking of a good fuck, you still sadly single?" Mark slapped him this time, scowling playfully.

"No, I've been dating an annoying piece of shit for the past year, I think you might remember him," Mark leant back in his seat. Jeno raised a brow.

"Who?"

"Lee Donghyuck."

Jeno's eyes shot open. "You're dating him?! No way!"

"Yes way." Mark snickered. 

"How? You two hated each other—!"

"He claimed opposites attract," Mark rubbed his temple. "He wouldn't leave me the fuck alone, and well, I grew attached."

"Have you two, you know?" Jeno asked, a smug smirk on his lips. Mark faked a laugh. 

"Duh," he grinned. 

"Who topped?"

"I'm not telling you that!" Mark gasped out, flustered. Jeno burst out laughing. 

"Is it 'cause you were the bottom?" Jeno smirked. Mark flushed a bright red and hit Jeno again and again on his arm. 

"Shut up, shut the fuck up!"

Jeno just laughed, pushing Mark away from him, picking up another file. "We should probably get back to it, huh?" He winked, and Mark flipped him off. Still flushing, Mark picked up another file and flipped it open, grabbing a highlighter and popping the cap off. 

"According to the files from the interview with one owner of one club, Club X, Jaemin was quite the catch," Mark scrubbed a hand through his hair, highlighting the lines of the files in bright yellow. "He was, how should I put this," he rubbed the back of his neck, "a prize."

"A prize?" Jeno raised a brow. Mark nodded slowly.

"He was quite flirty and promiscuous, but knew his boundaries," he continued to highlight. "He did go home with men, but according to what these files say, he never actually slept with any of them."

Jeno raised a brow. "I find that hard to believe if he was so sought after." Mark shrugged.

"I can't prove anything, Jeno," he closed the file with a loud sigh. "You got anything?"

Jeno frowned and nodded. "I've been reading and re-reading the statement from the owner of Super Junior, Leeteuk. He was working the night Jaemin disappeared and was the only apparent witness to anything that had to do with the disappearance. Apparently, he got drunk after only two shots, leading him to believe he was drugged, since Jaemin had shown to hold his liquor quite well." He removed his glasses from his face.

"The owner of Club X, Shownu, also said he seemed to hold his liquor well and that it took a lot for Jaemin to get drunk," Mark sighed. "His most frequent club was Super Junior, followed by Club X. According to Shownu, even when Jaemin was dead-drunk, he sometimes would refuse men who came to try and take him home and would often spend the night in Shownu's office." 

"It would help if Leeteuk or Shownu were still alive," Jeno leant back in his chair. 

"It really would." 

"My conclusion—I think, and I think every detective since the fucking 40's thought this—" he sighed in defeat. "—he was drugged and kidnapped."

Mark groaned. "This doesn't get us anywhere." Jeno closed his file and opened another one. Mark glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, groaning loudly. "It's almost 10," he rubbed at his tired eyes, spinning on his chair and switching the desktop on his desk off. 

Jeno frowned, now realising just how heavy his eyes were. "It is late..." he yawned, stretching his arms above his head. 

"Almost ten hours of rummaging through old detectives' statements and conclusions, and nothing," Mark grumbled. "They all say the exact same thing—Na Jaemin was drugged and kidnapped." 

"I don't understand how we're gonna do any different to them," Jeno sighed in exasperation, switching his desktop off. "Oh, Mark, do you want a lift home?" He dug through his shoulder bag to find his keys. They jingled in his hands as he pulled them out. He swung his bag onto his shoulder, facing Mark. 

"That would be fantastic," Mark grinned. "I caught the bus here." He grabbed his own bag and threw it onto his shoulder. 

"Do you not have a car?" Jeno asked as the two walked out of the office, locking it behind them. Mark stuffed the keys into his bag. 

"No, I'm too broke for one," he laughed. "You got your keys for the office?" 

"Yeah, I got them," Jeno nodded. They exited the silent police station and walked into the cool night. The crisp air enveloped Jeno, causing the hairs on his bare arms to prickle at the sensation. He looked to mark. "Do you want to stop to get dinner too?" 

Mark nodded eagerly. "Sounds good to me." 

Jeno unlocked his car, and Mark climbed into the passenger side. Jeno hopped into the driver's seat and started the engine. Mark and Jeno both twisted in their seats to buckle themselves in. Once Jeno's phone connected through Bluetooth, HISTORY's "Psycho" began to blast through the speakers. Mark grinned cheekily at Jeno. 

"HISTORY are still your faves, huh?" he asked after turning the music down so his voice could be heard. Jeno nodded quickly, quirking his lips. 

"Of course, I mean, have you seen Kyungil? He's hot." Jeno dreamily sighed, pulling the handbrake off and driving out of the carpark. Mark elbowed him. 

"True, but I know your bias is Yijeong," Mark wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Jeno blushed but laughed. "I know you, you go for the pretty, cute boys." 

"You're not wrong," Jeno chuckled, turning the music back up again. After a couple of songs played, a McDonald's came into view, and the boys felt their stomachs growl in hunger. Neither of them had eaten since breakfast, and they were starving. 

Jeno pulled into the carpark, finding a vacant park and parking the car. He and Mark clamoured out and dashed to McDonald's (not before Jeno locked his car). They lined up once inside, thanking god that the line-up wasn't long. 

When stepping up to order, Mark broke into a broad grin. "Lucas! Hey!" 

The server, a tall, pretty boy with brown hair stared down at Mark, his own smile stretching into his plump lips. 

"Hey Mark!" He greeted, a Chinese accent coating his words. Mark gestured to Jeno. "What can I get for you?" 

Mark and Jeno both ordered, and Mark asked if Lucas wanted to join them. Lucas grinned and nodded. He said he'd bring the food over and join them, as it was the end of his shift. 

Mark dragged Jeno to a booth once they finished ordering, sliding into the booth. Jeno slid in opposite him. 

"Who's that?" Jeno finally asked, gesturing to the tall boy disappearing somewhere in the kitchen. 

"Oh? Lucas? I met him when I was studying at Monash." Mark rested his chin on his hand. "He's Chinese, I think his actual name is Wong Yukhei, but the dumb ass likes to be called Lucas for some reason." Jeno snickered. "We met when I caught the bus and left my wallet on said bus," he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully and Jeno just laughed. "Lucas showed up at my uni and returned it to me. And we just hit it off." 

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "'Hit it off'?" Jeno wiggled his eyebrows, smirking. "As friends or—?" 

Mark slapped him, cutting the younger off. "As friends, doofus!" He blushed nonetheless. "He did flirt with me though," he toyed with his fingertips, and Jeno only snickered. 

"Quite the catch, huh?" Mark scowled at him, opening his mouth to retort something, but Lucas placing a tray of food on the table interrupted him. 

"You guys seem hungry, dig in." He grinned, sliding into the booth beside Mark. The two boys dug into their dinner, eating hurriedly and wolfing the food down. Lucas laughed as he watched, eyes twinkling in amusement. "When was the last time you ate?" he asked, eyeing the empty wrappers on the tray. 

"Probably eight or nine this morning?" Mark said, although it came out as more of a question. Lucas laughed, resting his chin on his hand. Jeno noticed that his fingers were long and thin. 

"Wow, that's a long time, what were you both doing?" He asked curiously. 

"Mark and I are detectives, we started our very first case today," Jeno said excitedly, mouth full of burger. Lucas raised a brow curiously. 

"Oh? Your first day? What's the case, if you don't mind me asking?" 

"It's an old case," Mark said absentmindedly, tracing his finger on the table. "It's like...seventy years old?" He looked to Jeno for confirmation, and the younger nodded. 

"A boy was drugged and kidnapped from an underground gay bar in 1945 and was never seen again," Jeno explained. He looked at Lucas who had fallen eerily silent. "...Lucas-hyung?" 

Lucas coughed awkwardly, looking at Jeno, albeit a little weirdly. "Is it the case of Na Jaemin?" 

Jeno blinked. "...yeah?" he said, although it came out as more of a question. "How'd you know that?" 

"I like mysteries," Lucas hurriedly said, shrugging his shoulders. Jeno just nodded. "Oh, with that case, do you know the old abandoned house in the next dong?" 

Jeno and Mark exchanged a glance, before looking back to the taller male. "Yeah?" Mark answered slowly. Lucas coughed awkwardly. 

"I heard it was abandoned in 1947 for unknown reasons," he said softly. "Apparently the owner of the house died, but there was no trace of his body." 

Jeno and Mark, once again, share a look with each other. Lucas then shuffled out of the booth, abruptly standing to his feet and towering over the two younger males. 

"I'll be off then, I gotta go," he flashed them a bright smile, before grabbing his bag from the floor, bowing his head and briskly walking out. 

Jeno watched his retreating figure, an unsettling feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach. He looked to Mark, who was finishing off his fries. 

"Should we?" 

"Huh?" Mark looked up to meet Jeno's gaze, a fry half-hanging out his mouth. "Should we what?" 

"Go check out the house?" 

Mark shot him a weird look, shaking his head. "You can if you want. You heard Lucas, it was abandoned in 1947. Jaemin disappeared in 1945. They probably aren't even related." 

Jeno quirked an eyebrow, sliding out of the booth and standing. "You don't know that," he said, staring down at the older. Mark chewed his fry and swallowed it, sliding out of the booth and standing beside Jeno. 

"As I said, you can go check it out, and I'll follow-up on some more research." Mark rested his hand on Jeno's shoulder. "Anyway, my house isn't too far from here, so I'll walk, okay?" 

"Are you sure?" Jeno asked cautiously, glancing out the window of the McDonald's to the almost empty street outside. The darkness was looming over the road, light illuminating the road and footpath in white splotches. Jeno looked back to Mark. "It's dangerous at night, Mark. Are you sure you'll be okay?" 

Mark grinned and nodded, picking up his bag and digging inside it before pulling it out and showing Jeno. Pepper spray. 

"I'll be fine. It's literally a ten-minute walk and I stay along the roads," he reassured, but Jeno just frowned. "Give me your number and I'll call you when I get home, okay?" 

Jeno nodded slowly, grabbing his phone from his pocket and handing it to the older to input his number into. Mark took the white iPhone 5 from Jeno, typing his number into the phone. He added it to a new contact, saving it under "Mork". Jeno chuckled, he looking it over as Mark handed the phone back to him. He texted Mark instantly. 

Mark's phone dinged loudly, and he whipped it out, saving the unknown contact under "loser". Jeno slapped Mark's arm, causing the latter to just cackle loudly. 

Jeno was ecstatic that he and Mark were friends again. 

 

* * *

 

Jeno collapsed into his bed—it was now close to midnight. He and Mark were at McDonald's for like an hour, then it took him forty-five minutes to drive home. He was exhausted. 

He rolled onto his side, staring out the open window of his small bedroom. The sky was void of clouds, white stars prickling across the inky black sky. The moon shone brightly at its highest peak, only a sliver crescent visible. 

Jeno was captivated—he loved the night. It always made him feel calm. The moonlight reflected off his eyes, the white light enveloping his face. His eyelids grew heavy, eyelashes fluttering as they drooped. His head rolled to the side, sleep finally taking hold of his dreary body. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter out of the way!!! Whoop!  
> If you hadn't guessed, the chief is Johnny :3  
> I hope you enjoyed and keep an eye out for the next update~~!


	3. 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You still remain,  
> I keep seeing you leaving  
> Whatever you wanted,  
> I gave you my all
> 
> — "Might Just Die", HISTORY

**May 18th, 2015**

The alarm blaring snapped Jeno from his dream. He flinched awake, groggily rolling over onto his side and shooting glares at his phone on his bedside table. It continued to blast “Ghost” by HISTORY, until he sleepily reached out to grasp at his phone and switch the blaring alarm off.

He tossed it back on the bedside table, rubbing groggily at his eyes. It was 4:30am, and he didn’t go to bed until midnight the previous night. He had barely four hours of sleep—he’d have to drop by his favourite café and buy a long black to wake him up.

He rolled out of bed, falling onto his wooden floor with a loud thud. He groggily pushed himself to his feet, sluggishly walking over to his wardrobe to find some clothes to wear for the day. He noticed he never had a shower last night—he just came home and collapsed in bed and slept.

Jeno sighed, grabbing a black, yellow and red pullover hoodie out from the wardrobe. He walked to the set of drawers against the wall and pulled out a pair of faded denim jeans. He sluggishly walked to the bathroom and shut the door.

In the shower, he just stood under the steady stream of the scalding water, letting it sooth his tight muscles. He lathered his body in foaming lavender body soap, massaging his sore muscles. He stood there and let the water wash away the suds, sighing deeply.

His dream last night was…strange to say the least. He was making out with someone—at first, he thought it was his ex, but he couldn’t see their face. All he could remember was mouthing down their pretty neck and letting his hands rub and grope at supple skin. The person, a male, wasn’t even making noise—just letting Jeno have his way with him.

It was weird, and Jeno would be lying if he didn’t say he got hot and bothered by it.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and turned the water off. He certainly wasn’t going to speak of this to Mark.

 

* * *

 

Jeno walked into the office at 6:55am, rubbing at his tired eyes with his wrist. Mark was already at his desk, chatting idly on the phone with someone with his back to the door. When the door clicked shut, Mark jumped and spun in his seat, looking with wide eyes to see who entered. He visibly relaxed when he saw that it was just Jeno, and he held a hand to his chest in relief.

“Huh? Oh, sorry, Hyuck, I just scared myself,” he sheepishly said to the person on the other end of the phone. Jeno raised a brow, smirking as he sat in his desk chair across the tiny room from Mark. “Jeno arrived and scared me.” Silence as presumably Donghyuck spoke over the phone. “Yeah, you remember Jeno, right?” He paused, before bursting out in laughter. He looked to Jeno and wheezed. “Okay, I gotta go now.” Silence. “I know. I’ll see you tonight, I love you.”

He hung up, tossing his phone onto the desk before looking at Jeno and laughing yet again.

“…what?” Jeno asked incredulously. Mark clapped his hands as he laughed (which is something he did, even in high school), choking on his breath. “You right there?” Jeno asked quizzically after Mark finished coughing and spluttering. Mark shot him a small glare, grabbing at his waterbottle on the desk and gulping down water.

“I’m fine,” Mark wheezed, placing his bottle back on the desk and swivelling to face the younger male. Jeno stared at him, one eyebrow arched. “…I asked Hyuck if he remembered you, yeah?” Jeno nodded. “And well,” Mark laughed again, “he asked if you were the guy with the face like the Easter Island rock-head thing emoji—” He burst out laughing again, and Jeno flushed.

“Nice to know he remembers me,” he muttered, standing from his chair.

Mark looked at him, calming down from his laughing fit. “What is your plan for today?” He asked, and Jeno shrugged.

“I’m gonna have a look in the basement for some more files. I’m kinda hoping that at least one person from around Jaemin’s disappearance is still alive,” Jeno then turned and walked out of the office. He walked down to the stairs that lead to the basement. A lot of the files that they had grabbed were still up in the office spread everywhere.

He was just hoping for one interview that could give them a single lead to Jaemin’s kidnapper or where his remains are. He was desperate for a lead, for anything at all. They did have that lead from Lucas, but it was pretty far-fetched, even Jeno realised that.

He entered the basement, flicking on the lights and standing in the doorway. The place was large and dark, even with the lights on. It gave him the creeps—even when he was here with Mark yesterday.

He walked in, scanning through the packed and overflowing bookshelves for the files on Na Jaemin. He was quite far into the basement now, and it was almost dead silent. His shoes clicked on the pristine floor, and he could hear creaking above from people working upstairs.

He shuddered, finding the shelf with Na Jaemin’s files stuffed into the drawer. He pulled it open, the sound noisy in the empty basement. He rummaged through it, trying to find something that would at least catch his eye—and his eye caught a name on a file.

He grabbed it and hummed, slamming the drawer shut and briskly exiting the basement. He entered the office, and Mark had his headphones on this time, reading through more files and highlighting pieces of importance.

Jeno sat at his desk and dumped the file on the desk. He turned on the computer then waited for it to start up. After a couple of minutes of waiting, he logged onto it and began to search through the system for a name, the name on the file.

Two names popped up, and one was the one he was looking for. He grinned and whooped loudly, startling Mark behind him (who’s song had just finished). Mark swivelled around to look at Jeno, who was beaming from ear-to-ear excitedly.

“We have someone to interview!”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure this is it?” Mark asked sceptically, double-checking the address on his phone again. Jeno climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him loudly.

“I’m sure,” Jeno said with certainty.

“It looks like some old dude lives here,” Mark commented, shutting his door after he climbed out. He looked over the neatly-trimmed garden, gnomes hidden among the bushes, and windchimes dangling from the roof of the front porch. A rocking chair sat on the porch beside the door.

Jeno barked a laugh as he walked up the pathway in the front lawn, pressing his keys to lock the car. “Mark, he’s an eighty-eight-year-old man we’re interviewing, remember?”

“Oh, right,”

They walked to the door, and Jeno raised his fist to rap his knuckles against the wood of the door. Inside came a muffled “coming!”, before footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door. The footsteps stopped, and there was clicking of locks before the door creaked open.

Jeno choked when he laid eyes on the person behind the door, almost dropping the file in his hands. The boy behind the door stared up at Jeno, wide-eyed, just as in shock as the taller was.

“J-Jeno? What are you doing here?” the boy asked, voice small.

“I…I’m…here to see…” Jeno looked at the file. “Huang Renjun but…” he looked at the boy who raised a brow.

“You’re here to see me?” Renjun asked cautiously, leaning against the doorframe. Jeno swallowed thickly. He hadn’t seen the older male in two years—he’d grown a bit, but he was still smaller than Jeno. His hair was no longer a fiery pink, but a light brown colour. His snaggletooth was gone, replaced with almost perfectly straight, white teeth.

He looked just as cute now as he did then.

“…Jeno, I thought you said we were here to see an eighty-eight-year-old man?” Mark asked, interrupting the choking awkward silence. Renjun stood straight, raising a brow.

“You want to see my grandfather?”

Jeno blinked. “Huang Renjun is your grandfather?”

“Yeah, remember I told you that I was named after my grandfather?” Renjun bit out, glaring daggers at Jeno. “Or did you forget about that too?”

Mark looked between the two warily—Jeno looking like a petrified kitten and this Renjun looking like an angry wolf ready to snap up the kitten.

“…am I missing something?” Mark asked, and Renjun just shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s in the past,” he muttered, “anyway, you didn’t answer my question.” He tilted his chin up, eyes glaring down at Jeno, pinning him with his angry graze.

“Y-yeah, we’re here to see him.” Jeno said quietly, and Renjun quirked a brow. Jeno dug his hand into his pocket, grabbing his detective badge and pulling it out. He flipped it open and showed Renjun the badge and ID. Mark copied his movements, showing the younger his own badge and ID. “It’s on official police business. We’re on a case.”

Renjun stiffened. “My grandfather isn’t a suspect, is he? Because he—”

“—no, he’s not,” Mark interrupted, tucking his badge away into his pocket. “We just need to question him about someone.”

Renjun nodded slowly and stepped aside to let the two detectives into the house. “Come inside then.”

The two males entered the quaint house, walking down the narrow hallway into the house. Renjun closed the door behind them and followed them down the hallway. The floor was wooden and polished, portrait photos hanging on the blank white walls.

They walked into the living room, where an old man sat on an armchair, staring at the television. He turned his head to greet Renjun, only to see two strangers instead.

“Who are you? Where’s Renjun?” he asked worriedly, beginning to stand. Renjun appeared from behind Jeno and Mark, walking over to his grandfather.

“I’m here grandfather,” Renjun said, squatting on his haunches in front of his grandfather. “These two detectives here just want to have a chat with you.”

Renjun gestured for Mark and Jeno to sit on the couch across from the armchair the old man was in. The two nodded and walked over to said couch, sitting on it quietly. Jeno looked at the old man, swallowing thickly.

“You are Mr. Huang Renjun, yes?” Mark asked, grabbing his notebook and pen out, clicking the back of it. The man nodded.

“Yes, what do you need?” the man asked lowly. The young Renjun knelt on the floor beside the armchair, watching Jeno like a hawk.

“My name is Mark, and this is my partner Jeno,” Mark gestured to the younger male, “we are detectives working on the case of Na Jaemin.”

At the mention of the name, the old man stiffened, mouth falling open.

“The…that case is still open?” he asked, voice quiet in shock. Jeno nodded.

“Yeah, and we have been assigned to finding out what happened to him.” Jeno said softly. “We just want to find closure. Problem is, there’s nobody left alive to interview—so when I found your name in a file, I was ecstatic, since you were a minor at the time and was not interviewed.”

The old man nodded. “What do you want to know? I want to find closure for him…” He trailed off, swallowing thickly. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him.” He exhaled shakily, dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief.

Jeno nodded slowly. “I know. Now then,” he opened his own notebook, popping the lid off his pen and hovering it above the blank page. “What was Na Jaemin to you?”

The man swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. The subject was obviously a touchy one for him. “He was my best friend. We grew up together. We went to school together. When he told me he was gay and went to underground gay night clubs, I became extremely worried. I noticed he’d skip school, he’d sneak into my place at ungodly hours of the night…he’d also have hickeys on his neck and shoulders—it worried me that one day he’d be raped or kidnapped.

“I warned him, I did. I told him that he was going to be hurt, get taken away…I told him that something bad was going to happen. He never listened. On the day he went missing, I had a fight with him, I was worried about him, and I said some things I shouldn’t have—but I know I was right.” He inhaled shakily, wiping the tears away on his wrinkled cheeks with his handkerchief.

“I had a bad feeling that day. I felt like something was going to go wrong. I tried to tell him that, but he just got angry with me, and he stormed off home. During the night, I felt the bad feeling just sit with me…and the following day, he didn’t show up at school. I went to his parents’ house to ask where he was, but he wasn’t there. His parents thought he was at my place.

“He never came home. We never saw him again.” He choked on a sob, breathing shakily as he tried to keep his tears at bay.

Renjun rubbed his grandfather’s knee in reassurance. Jeno and Mark both scribbled down notes in their notebook.

“Mr. Huang,” Mark asked slowly, looking up from his notebook to the old man. “Was there anything suspicious about anyone Jaemin was around? Anything that might be worth telling us?”

The old man seemed to think for a moment, sniffling as he raised his handkerchief to blow his nose.

“There was…one man,” the man mumbled after silence, looking up to stare at Jeno and Mark. “He’d hand around Jaemin’s house, outside of the school, wherever Jaemin was—I saw him. Jaemin never saw him, and honestly, I never thought much of it at the time,” he paused. “Stalkers weren’t really…a thing, per se, at the time.

“The man, from what I could tell with the minimal glances I had of him, was around our age, and was extremely tall—much taller than Jaemin and I. I never saw his face, but his hair was brown from what I could see.” He hummed in thought, then looked to his grandson. “Renjun, can you go grab my photo album please? You know the one,”

Renjun nodded, standing to his feet and briskly leaving the room. Silence ensued until he returned with a thick and tattered album. He knelt on the ground by his grandfather again, handing him the album. The old man gestured for Jeno and Mark to come over, so they did. They stood and walked over to the armchair, standing beside it and peering over the old man’s shoulder.

He opened the album and flipped open to a page. Jeno stared, eyes blown wide. The photographs pasted on the pages were of Jaemin and Renjun. He did a double-take, looking at the old Renjun before at the young Renjun.

“…is that you with Jaemin?” Mark asked the old man, obviously thinking the same thing as Jeno. The man snickered and nodded.

“My son called Renjun, well, Renjun, because of how similar he looks to me.” He chuckled, gingerly tracing his aged fingers over the black and white photographs. “It was hard to take photographs in these days—but Jaemin and I had a camera that we shared. We’d take photos whenever we could—” he broke off, eyebrows furrowing as he pointed to a photograph. This one in particular was one of Jaemin smiling broadly, head tilted to the side and holding a dark rose in his hand.

Jeno’s eyes scanned across the photograph, trying to find what was wrong with the picture—then his eyes settled on the tall, dark and masked figure in the background of the photo.

He was extremely tall, dark hair, black mask hiding his face, and just…hiding in the shadows.

“Is…” Jeno swallowed. “…is this the man you believe was stalking Jaemin?”

The older Renjun nodded. “Yes.”

“Was he anyone you knew?” Mark asked, jotting down notes in his notebook.

“No. Our high school was small, we both knew everyone, and he wasn’t there. There was nobody tall and with his stature in our school.” The old man responded, pointing to another photograph.

This one was of Jaemin again, sitting on a park bench, posing for the camera. In the shadows of the trees in the background stood the same man, barely hiding behind the tree.

“…Mark,” Jeno spoke suddenly, catching everyone’s attention.

“Yeah? What’s up?” Mark asked, looking at Jeno.

“Do you remember what Leeteuk said in his statement?” Jeno asked, voice low. Mark hummed, touching his chin as he thought.

“I think so…remind me again?” Mark stared at Jeno—all eyes in the room were on Jeno. Jeno walked around the armchair and stood by the coffee table so he could face the three males.

“Leeteuk?” Renjun’s grandfather asked, confused. Jeno nodded quickly.

“Leeteuk, or Park Jungsoo, was the owner of Super Junior, and was working as the bartender the night Jaemin vanished.” Jeno explained, and the old man’s eyes widened comically. “He stated that he was like Jaemin’s therapist at the club, Jaemin would tell him everything.” Jeno cleared his throat.  

The older Renjun was silent.

“When Jaemin collapsed, dead drunk, passing into unconsciousness, he was caught by a tall man wearing a mask, claiming—with a Chinese accent, might I add—that he was a friend of Jaemin’s from school.” Jeno explained, watching for a reaction from the elderly man.

“…that description is just like the man in these photos,” the old man gasped out, pointing to the photographs again. “And the man I saw hanging around Jaemin’s house.”

Mark rubbed his chin. “If only we knew who he was, then we could track where he used to live and find some clues.” He said absentmindedly.

“Mark, we’ve already come further than any other detective in the case,” Jeno grinned. “Out of all the files I read, they had zero leads and zero suspects. Now, we have a lead and a suspect.” Jeno then looked back to the old man. “May I ask what high school you went to?”

“Back then, Jaemin and I lived in the next dong over,” the elderly man said. “We lived in Dongin-dong and attended Dongin-dong High School. We used to walk to school…” he trailed off. “…actually, I noticed something weird.”

“What?” Jeno and Mark both asked simultaneously.

“There was a house we’d pass to go to school, and that was the place I’d see him, the stalker, the most.”

Jeno blinked, feeling a sense of dread consuming him. He couldn’t explain why, but he had a feeling he knew what house the old man was talking about.

“I’d see him in the window at the same time every morning and afternoon as we walked past—his gaze would only be on Jaemin.” The man sighed softly. “Even in the window, he still wore a mask.”

“Was this house abandoned in 1947?” Jeno asked, interrupting the old man. All eyes fell on him, and the old man nodded slowly.

“Yes. We don’t know what happened—just that one day nobody inhabited the house, and all records of anyone living there were destroyed.” He explained softly.

Jeno swallowed thickly, his heart hammering in his chest.

How did Lucas know the house was of any importance? That question made his stomach turn—he felt like he was going to throw up.

“Thank you, Sir,” Mark said quickly, closing his notebook and tucking it away in his bag. “I think that’ll be enough for today.”

The man exhaled shakily, nodding slowly. Jeno looked at the album and cleared his throat.

“Mr. Huang,” he spoke softly, “would it be alright if I were to take this album? I will return it once I scan the photos of course.” Jeno added the last part hurriedly. The man froze for a moment, but then relaxed and nodded slowly.

“Yes, of course.” With shaky hands, he closed the album, handing it to Jeno. The young male graciously took it, carefully placing it into his bag.

“I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can,” Jeno said softly. The old man nodded and looked to his grandson.

“To save you coming out, let Injun here give you his number so you can contact him when you’re finished with the album.” He gestured to the young male, and Jeno flinched, glancing warily at the shorter male.

“Of course, grandfather,” he smiled sweetly, the gesture making Jeno’s heart melt yet again. “I will show them out now.”

“Ah, yes,” the old man smiled and held his hand out for Jeno to shake. “Thank you. Please bring closure to Jaemin.” Jeno took the man’s wrinkled hand in his large and smooth one, shaking it firmly.

“Of course I will. That’s what I intend to do.” Jeno smiled brightly, his eyes turning into cute crescents.

Renjun then lead the two boys down the hall and out the front door. Mark bid goodbye to the boy, smiling and firmly shaking his hand before trotting back down the pathway to the car.

Jeno didn’t spare a glance to the shorter male and turned to leave, however, Renjun grabbed his sleeve, stopping him in his tracks.

“Jeno, I want to talk to you.” He said, voice low. Jeno flinched, turning back to face Renjun, who was glaring up at him. “Firstly, you need my number to contact me so I can collect the album,” he held his hand out, gesturing for Jeno’s phone. Reluctantly, Jeno pulled his phone out from his jeans and handed it to the older male.

He unlocked the phone and began to type in his phone number as a new contact. Jeno’s dark eyes watched his nimble fingers skim across the screen, captivated.

He had always found Renjun captivating. Now, as he merely typed in his phone, was no different. Renjun handed the phone back to Jeno, glancing up to meet his gaze.

“You changed your number,” Renjun commented sourly, crossing his arms. Jeno swallowed noisily, eyes skittish.

“Yeah,” was all he said. Renjun raised his eyebrows.

“You only changed your number to stop me from contacting you, yeah?”

Jeno stayed silent, staring lousily at his feet. Renjun glared at him.

“You were the one in the wrong, Jeno,” he snapped angrily, hands now balled on his fists. “Not me. I did nothing wrong. You were the one who didn’t commit. I grew tired of it. I never cheated—I just was sick of you not treating me right.” He exhaled deeply, calming his nerves. “Don’t make yourself the victim here.” He handed Jeno his phone back and turned back to walk into the house.

Jeno watched, eyes cloudy, as Renjun gave him one last scornful look before he slammed the door shut. Jeno flinched at the sudden loud noise.

He turned and walked sulkily down the pathway and to the car, hopping in the drivers’ side and handing his bag to Mark.

Mark looked at him, concerned. “You did never answer me. Who was that?”

Jeno remained silent, gripping the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. They weren’t moving yet.

“…Jeno,” Mark reached out and gently grasped Jeno’s arm, easing it off the steering wheel. Mark clasped Jeno’s sweaty hand in his own cool one, stroking his thumb over the knuckles gently. “Talk to me.”

“…” Jeno looked at Mark, tears swimming in his eyes. They shone in the sunlight, eyelashes heavy with tears. “He…he was my boyfriend. We broke up a year ago.” He inhaled shakily. “We were together for two years and…I guess he wasn’t happy.” He sniffled, squeezing Mark’s hand tightly. “I caught him on a date with another male at a bar.”

Mark frowned, gently squeezing Jeno’s hand back.

“He told me it’s because I was distant and never saw him or paid attention to him. He said he didn’t cheat—he just went out with a friend and lied about it.” Jeno rubbed his temple softly. “I know I was in the wrong for ignoring him and not treating him right but…” he whimpered. “…it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Mark reached over and wrapped his arms the best he could around Jeno, rubbing his back gently. Jeno clung to Mark like a child clinging to a parent, burying his face into the elder’s shoulder. He cried softly, tears wetting the fabric.

“It’s okay,” Mark shushed gently. “You’ll find someone better. You’ll treat them right, I know you will.” Mark smiled gently, pushing Jeno away so he could wipe away the younger’s tears with his thumbs.

Jeno nodded quickly, whimpering quietly.

“Now then, let’s get outta here.”

 

* * *

 

Jeno stared at the photograph with a magnifying glass. He scanned a few of the photos and was studying them. It was nearing 9pm, and he was still at the office. Mark left two hours ago, and left Jeno here to do some more of his own research and work.

This particular photograph he was looking at was one of Jaemin sitting on a swing at a park, perched delicately upon the seat and hands clutching the chains. He was smiling his beautiful smile, feet crossed at the ankles.

In the background by the sandpit in the shadows, stood the stalker. He was half hidden by a tree, hand wrapped around the edge as he hid, watching Jaemin with dark eyes. Jeno circled the hand on the tree—his hand was large, and his fingers were long and thin.

Jeno turned and grabbed his bag, whipping his phone out and searching the address to the abandoned house in Dongin-dong.

He was going to search that house. Tonight.

 

* * *

 

The house was old and dark, weeds and plants overgrowing at the corners. He switched on the flashlight on his phone, the white light bright and illuminating his way. He entered the house, huge gaping holes in the roof, streams of white moonlight streaming glowing into the ruined house.

He walked around, scanning his surroundings. There was blood splattered on the floor, shattered glass and broken rotting furniture across (what once was) the living room. He shone the flashlight over the walls and halted when he shone it over a bolted shut door to what could possibly be the basement.

He briskly walked over to it, pulling at the rusted lock. It broke off easily, the rust having eaten away the metal. Jeno flinched when it clanged against the floor, but pulled open the door nonetheless. It was even darker in the basement, the looming blackness scaring him a bit. He swallowed his fear, descending down the creaky steps into the pitch-black basement.

He shone the light around the damp basement, the light finding yet another door, this one chained up. The chains on the door were rusted and wearing thin. Jeno looked around the old, dark basement for something he could use to break down the chains. He found a mallet leaning against the wall, and he smirked slightly.

He walked over lifted it with ease. It was heavy, but Jeno had been working out so he was quite okay with lifting heavy objects. He walked back over to the door and began to hit at the chains. The metal made loud clangs and jingles, the chains breaking apart with ease. He dropped the mallet, pushing the door open.

It revealed a whole new room, one that was damper and darker than the basement he was already in. He stepped inside, whipping his phone out from his pocket and switching on the flashlight. He shone it around the room, it’s bright white light illuminating the damp dungeon. It cast many black shadows across the room, and he flinched every time one moved—but he just reminded himself it was just him. 

Jeno continued to walk until his toe collided with something heavy and hard. He yelped loudly, dropping the phone as he clutched at his sore toes. The phone clattered against the concrete floor, the light shining up.

After cradling his throbbing foot, Jeno froze when his gaze landed on what he had kicked.

A coffin.

He hurriedly knelt to the dusty floor, feeling along the edges of the coffin for an opening. There were rusted padlocks along the edges, pinning it shut. He growled in aggravation, racing back out to the basement to grab the mallet. 

He smashed at the padlocks, each one snapping off easily. He dropped the mallet with a loud bang, hurriedly pushing open the lid to the coffin. He grabbed his phone off the floor, fingers scraping against the concrete painfully. He shone the light into the coffin and froze.

He almost screamed, the light quivering in his hand as he stared in utter shock down at the figure bound in thick ropes in the coffin.

It was Na Jaemin. 

His cheeks were scratched and pale, lips devoid of colour. His eyelashes were long and black, brushing against his cheeks. His brown hair was tangled and unruly. He looked beautiful—but he looked like he had not aged a single day since he went missing. Jeno reached a quivering hand out to the boy, warm fingertips brushing against a cold cheek. He moved his fingers to the thin, pretty neck, feeling for a pulse.

Nothing, of course.

Jeno was confused and frightened. Jaemin should be bones by now—the boy looked as though he was just sleeping, a peaceful expression on his beautiful face.

He pocketed his phone, reaching into the coffin to hook his arms beneath the body. Jeno effortlessly carried him out of the room and ascended up the stairs of the basement. Jeno looked around the room, trying to find something to lay the boy on.

Jeno’s eyes laid on a couch—it was rotting, but it’d work. He briskly walked over and gently laid the bound boy on the rotting couch, the moonlight streaming through the holes in the roof and engulfing his pretty features.

He stared at the body—Jaemin really was pretty. But, he was dead, Jeno reminded himself.

That’s right, he was dead.

None of this made sense—how has Jaemin’s body not rotted away?

Jeno shook his head—he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

He pulled his pocket knife from out of his jeans pocket, flipping it open and slicing at the old ropes that bound the boy’s arms to his sides. The boy was dressed in a knitted jumper that was slightly too baggy, with black pants and socks on his feet. Blood stained the fabric of his clothing, scratches marking his cheeks and neck. Jeno moved the jumper up to look at his stomach—scratches and bruises littered the pale skin of his abdomen.

His assumption was correct—Na Jaemin did meet with foul play.

Jeno then whipped his phone back out, immediately calling Mark.

After a couple of rings, the older picked up. Jeno didn’t give Mark a chance to speak, interrupting him almost immediately.

“I found him”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a boring chapter, eh. Enjoy~


	4. 03

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess I was a little crazy  
> I went overboard and I liked you a little too much,  
> When it was nothing.  
> It was nothing.
> 
> — “Might Just Die”, HISTORY

**May 19th, 2015**

It was nearing two in the morning, and Jeno was running on coffee alone. His head dropped onto Mark's shoulder as they sat in an office at the hospital, waiting for Sicheng to complete the autopsy. Mark sighed, shrugging his shoulders, pushing Jeno's head off his shoulder. 

Jeno's head lolled, eyes glaring up at the older, head hanging. He pouted, leaning back in his seat and resting the back of his head against the wall. 

"Rude, I'm tired." He muttered. Mark scoffed, crossing his arms. 

"So am I," he sighed deeply. "Why couldn't you wait until daylight hours to go searching in the house?" 

"I needed to know," Jeno mumbled. 

Silence ensued, the two just sitting quietly. The door to the office opened, and a tall man with blonde hair and cute face walked in. Mark and Jeno scrambled to their feet. 

"Sicheng-hyung," Mark bowed his head. "What came up?" 

"Follow me, I'll show you," Sicheng gestured behind him with a tilt of his jaw, his voice soft. Jeno and Mark nodded, following the older male out into the pristine hallway. They walked in silence as Sicheng lead them to the morgue, to the room where he examined Jaemin's body. 

The room was dim and white, Jaemin's body lying on the examination table in a loose white hospital gown. Jeno felt his throat constrict, walking in to stand beside the table. He stared down at the pretty boy on the table, hair pressed to the silver table, forming a brown halo around his head. He looked like he was just sleeping, and Jeno wondered what he would have looked like if he really was sleeping. 

Would his skin have colour to it? Would his lips be as dark as they were in the photographs? Would he breathe through his lips or nose as he slept? Would he shift and roll around or stay still? Would his eyelashes flutter? Would he lick his lips? 

The image of Jaemin being alive made Jeno feel horrible, knowing that such a beautiful boy met with such a disturbing and horrible fate. 

He reached out and let his fingertips ghost across Jaemin's cheek, wondering if Jaemin would recoil or lean into his touch. His fingers then touched Jaemin's hair, it was tangled, but soft. 

It really was like he just fell asleep. 

For seventy years. 

"He was choked." Sicheng said, clear voice slicing through the thick silence and startling Jeno. He withdrew his hand from Jaemin, like the body had burnt him. Sicheng gently moved Jaemin's chin up, hands clad in rubber gloves, pointing to red finger marks staining the pale skin of his neck. Half-moon indents left behind from nails marked the skin, dry blood dotting the wounds. "The killer had long fingers, as you can see here," he traced his finger across the long red mark. "There was clearly a struggle, there are scratches and bruises still on his body, mostly around his stomach and waist," he lifted the hospital gown, gesturing to the deep scratches and purple blotches scattered across his skin. 

Jeno swallowed loudly, trying to stop his eyes from trailing down to Jaemin's naked groin. His eyes were stopped when Sicheng let the hospital gown cover the body again. 

"There was also traces of body fluids inside Jaemin, showing that he may have been sexually assaulted either before or after being killed," Sicheng said softly, stepping back from the bench. "Clearly, the killer's original intention was to just keep Jaemin locked up and have his way with him, until this struggle, where he was accidentally killed." 

Jeno nodded, at a loss for words. 

"The worst kind of death," Mark mumbled almost inaudibly, standing beside Jeno. Sicheng nodded in agreement. 

"I want to do some more examining," Sicheng said, shooing the two detectives out. "Leave now, shoo!" 

Mark poked his tongue out at the older cheekily, grabbing Jeno's hand and dragging him out. 

They stood in the hallway, Mark leaning against the wall, texting on his phone. He was obviously texting Donghyuck, because every now and then he'd smile gently and stifle a giggle. Jeno glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. 

2:02am. 

This was going to be a long night. 

 

* * *

 

Jeno was abruptly startled from his sleep by an ear-piercing scream that sliced through the silent and nearly-empty hospital. It bounced off the walls, it's shrill sound full of fear and pain. 

Jeno staggered to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he took off toward the room Sicheng was examining in. A sleepy Mark ran after him, eyes flying wide in fear. 

Jeno skidded to a halt outside the door, hurriedly twisting the doorknob and throwing it open. Yet, his heart stopped and he froze in the doorway when his gaze landed on what was happening inside the once pristine white room. 

It was Jaemin. 

The boy had pinned Sicheng to the floor, blood splattered over his white gown. Blood stained the floor, Sicheng's skin, his clothes—everything it touched, it stained. 

Jeno broke out of his trance when he realised Jaemin had one hand wrapped around the older man's neck, the other hand holding a scalpel, the knife wedged deeply into Sicheng's right eye. Sicheng was screaming, struggling, trying to push Jaemin back. Blood ran from his eyes and tainted his skin. 

Jeno ran in, arms wrapping around Jaemin's waist, yanking him off Sicheng. The boy flew, back colliding with the wall behind him. He staggered, but stood straight, as if being thrown into a wall didn't hinder him one bit. 

Jeno stared, mouth agape as Jaemin adjusted his grip on the scalpel before screaming and charging at Jeno, weapon raised.

Jaemin collided with Jeno, thrusting the scalpel deep into his arm. Jeno screamed out in pain, pushing Jaemin back against the wall, pinning him in place with his bleeding forearm. His arm pressed tightly to Jaemin's throat, holding him in place against the wall. Jaemin cried, screaming inaudible words. His fingernails scratched painfully at Jeno's arm before they tried to claw at his face. Jeno recoiled, trying to keep his arm in place over Jaemin's. Jaemin growled at him, feral, like an animal. He snapped his jaws at Jeno, saliva dribbling down the corners of his lips. 

It was only now Jeno realised Jaemin had blood painting his lips and teeth. Something wasn't right. Clearly. 

Jeno then remembered the chains, the ropes, the finger-marks around Jaemin's throat. Whoever killed Jaemin was trying to protect themselves from Jaemin. That could be the case. 

Jeno frowned and moved his arm quickly, wrapping his long fingers around Jaemin's throat. The boy choked, eyes flying wide. He began to claw at Jeno's hands, piercing the skin. Jeno grit his teeth, grip tightening around Jaemin's throat. 

The boy's eyes rolled back into his head before his body fell limp. The screaming and feral growls silenced. The room was quiet, save for Mark calling for help on his phone. 

Jeno let Jaemin's bloodied body flop into his arms. His face was once again peaceful, but now, fresh blood was splattered across his lips and skin. Jeno was confused. 

Jaemin is definitely dead. So how and why did he get up and attack Sicheng? 

 

* * *

 

Jeno and Mark sat in the waiting room of the hospital, blood still staining their clothes. It was now early dawn, the early rays of sunshine peeking in through the hospital windows. It had been two hours since the attack, and the two were very much awake. 

Mark leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at Jeno, who was leaning back in the chair, arms folded across his chest, teeth gnawing on his lip. He was thinking. Mark sighed deeply, poking at Jeno's knee. The boy blinked, looking down to meet Mark's gaze. 

"Hm?" Jeno hummed, confused. There were deep scratches littered across his cheeks, hands and arm, dried blood dotting the wounds. Mark exhaled deeply. 

"He was definitely dead, wasn't he?" Mark asked softly, the words getting caught in his throat. He couldn't believe what he saw. It was almost unreal, like it should be an episode of Supernatural. 

Jeno nodded. "Yes. He had no pulse and was not breathing." Jeno chewed on his lip again. "I don't know what happened. I just know that Jaemin stabbed Sicheng-hyung in the eye with a scalpel and also took a bite out of his shoulder." 

"I saw that. You don't think he's a..." he swallowed, the absurd situation making him feel ridiculous. "...you don't think he's a zombie, do you?" Mark looked at Jeno incredulously, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. He was confused, as was Jeno. But after what they just saw, the idea of Jaemin being a zombie wasn't that far-fetched. Jeno opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted. 

"He could be." 

They looked up at who spoke. A slim and pretty man with blonde hair stood before them dressed in a white nurse's coat, splotches of blood on the white fabric. Jeno and Mark stood, bowing their heads. 

"He's awake." The man spoke softly. He tilted his head back to gesture towards the psych ward. His sharp jawline was prominent, silver earrings glinting in the white light of the room. 

"Sicheng-hyung is?" Mark asked, but he knew that the nurse was not speaking about the examiner. 

"No," Was all he said before beckoning the two to follow him. Jeno and Mark followed the older male down the dimly lit hallways until they stopped before a door. The nurse unlocked the door, gesturing for the two to enter. 

They did, and Jeno froze once he stepped inside. 

Chained to the far wall, wrapped in a straitjacket was Jaemin. His head was lolling on his shoulders, eyelids droopy, looking as though he had just awoken from a nap. 

"Taeyong-hyung..." Jeno mumbled, eyes wide in disbelief, shuffling closer to the older male. Taeyong looked up at him, smiling slightly. 

"You may physically be an adult now, but you're still a child mentally." Taeyong walked forwards, clearing his throat to gain Jaemin's attention. Jeno stood behind Taeyong, heart thundering in his chest. 

Jaemin blinked, eyes adjusting to the light. He squinted, dark lips parting. His eyes then widened, gaze flitting across the room in clear panic. His breath was uneven, and he began to struggle against the binds. The chains holding him to the wall rattled. He began to dryly sob, tears absent, trying in vain to escape. 

"Na Jaemin," Jeno spoke softly, his heart cracking little by little at the sight before him. The boy stilled, chest heaving. His gaze slowly moved to rest upon the three males before him. Jeno stepped forwards, stepping in front of Taeyong. "That's your name, right?" He swallowed thickly, eyes still blown wide. 

Jaemin nodded slowly. "Are...who are you?" He choked out. His voice was hoarse, croaky, like he had not used his throat in decades. Jeno watched the boy's throat as he swallowed nervously, gaze trailing up to Jaemin's lips. The boy licked his lips, leaning back against the wall. He rested his head against it, head tilted up, neck exposed. He still looked tired, confused. 

"I'll answer your questions soon enough." Jeno said softly, turning and grabbing a folding chair from the back of the room. He dragged it over to rest before Jaemin. He sat on it, now merely a metre away from Jaemin. Jeno studied the boy's face closely. 

Red lips, large eyes, pale skin, grey eye bags, greyish-brown eyes, thin throat. 

He was much more exhilarating when awake.

"No, tell me where I am." Jaemin frowned, moving his head so it no longer leant against the wall. 

"I will," Jeno said harshly, frowning at the wince from the younger boy. "Firstly, what is the last thing you remember?" The boy tilted his head to one side, gaze averted as he thought. He pursed his lips, kind of relaxed, as though he were just thinking for a test in school instead of being asked questions about his death. 

"I remember being in a small, dark place. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move. I was confined." Jaemin spoke after a millennia of thinking. His voice was soft. "I think I was dead before I went into there, though." 

The last statement threw Jeno off, and the shock written across his face must have amused Jaemin because the boy laughed. It was cute, his laugh. But it was empty, and it was full of irony. 

"What do you mean you were dead before you were in that coffin?" Mark asked, standing beside Jeno. "You couldn't have died before that—"

"Yes, I could have." Jaemin interrupted. "Clearly, you're police officers, right?" He asked, smiling slightly. "I know I'm no longer in that house." 

Jeno blinked. "Can you recount what happened to you after you went missing?" He asked. Jaemin hummed in thought, a cheeky grin on his lips. Jeno frowned. Jaemin didn't understand just how dire this whole situation was. 

"I will, if you answer my questions first," he said, voice teasing. Jeno furrowed his eyebrows, and Jaemin's grin just widened. "Frowns don't suit your handsome face, Sir." 

Jeno felt his face erupt in a fiery blush. Jaemin was...flirting with him? The files weren't kidding when they said that Jaemin was a flirt. 

Taeyong, behind them, cleared his throat, stepping forwards. "Jaemin, do you not understand how serious this is?" He frowned, eyes narrowing. Jaemin's grin vanished, replaced with a confused frown. "You've been missing for seventy years, yet here you are, the same age as when you went missing. You woke up during your autopsy and attacked the examiner." Taeyong stepped closer, crouching before the younger male, who stared at him dead in the eye, mouth agape. "So, answer us. We're very curious to how on earth you're still alive." 

"Seventy years?" Jaemin asked, voice tight. Taeyong nodded solemnly. 

"Seventy years. The year is 2015." 

Jaemin sighed deeply, lips curled into a frown. "Wow...seventy years huh? His stupid fucking curse worked," Jaemin mumbled to himself. Jeno barely caught it, but he did. 

"What?" Jeno asked, confused. Jaemin shook his head, sighing in defeat and slumping back against the wall. 

"...can you at least tell me your names?" Jaemin asked softly, shyly. He stared up at them from under his thick eyelashes, expectant. 

"Oh...sure..." Jeno coughed awkwardly. "I'm Lee Jeno. I'm a detective who was set on your case to find out what happened to you." Jaemin blinked, sitting straight against the wall. Jeno then gestured to Mark. "This is my partner, Mark Lee, no we are not related." 

Jaemin smiled a bit at Jeno. Taeyong stepped back to stand beside Jeno. He crossed his arms across his chest, staring down at Jaemin. 

"Funnily enough, my name is Lee Taeyong." He introduced, his own small smile stretched into his lips. Jaemin chuckled softly, shuffling around so he was comfortable. 

"Well, obviously you know me." Jaemin mumbled softly. Jeno nodded. 

"Can you tell us what happened to you?" He asked, pulling his phone from his pocket and opening the recording app. 

Jaemin nodded, and Jeno tapped record. "...you obviously know that I disappeared from Super Junior, yes?" He asked, and the three males nodded. "Well, when I took my second and last shot, it tasted funny. Not like how vodka usually is. I felt...dead drunk. I collapsed, and Leeteuk-hyung rushed over to me, but I don't remember what he said," he hesitated, "someone caught me. They were warm." He blinked. "I blacked out then." 

Jeno nodded. The files were right; Jaemin was drugged and kidnaped. 

"When I awoke, I was tied down to a bed in...what I think was a basement." Jaemin spoke again, gaze trained on the white floor. "Someone was sleeping beside me. He was really tall, and I had never seen him before in my life." He exhaled slowly. "I wouldn't be able to tell you his name, he never told me. I can only vaguely remember his face as well." Jaemin hung his head, biting his lower lip. "He told me that he was my boyfriend. He told me he brought me home so we could be together. I honestly laughed it off. I thought it was a joke. But then he..." Jaemin swallowed thickly. 

Jeno slid off the chair and sat on the floor before Jaemin, gently placing his hand on the younger's knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Jaemin inhaled sharply at the contact, but then visibly relaxed. 

"He then kissed me. He also then..." he hesitated yet again, voice tight. "...he raped me." His breath stuttered in his throat. "He claimed I was his. That I always was. He told me I was never going to leave him. That I was never going to leave." 

Jeno frowned, gaze never leaving Jaemin's face. The boy looked ready to cry, yet he seemed passive. 

"This went on for a while. He'd come down into the basement every day, feed me, clean me, play card games with me, and...rape me." Jaemin inhaled deeply. "He never called it rape every time I accused him of it, he said it was him making love to me." Jaemin looked at Jeno. "The thing was, detective, that he never actually hurt me." 

Jeno raised his brows in surprise, looking back to Mark and Taeyong (the older now occupying the seat). Then what about the marks on Jaemin's body? The blood in the lounge room of the house? Jeno was definitely confused. He scrunched his nose up and furrowed his brows. Jaemin giggled softly. 

"You look cute when you're confused." He commented cheekily, once again making warmth bloom in Jeno's cheeks. 

"He never hurt you? What do you mean?" Taeyong asked, slicing the thick sexual tension in the air between Jeno and Jaemin. Jeno blinked, looking away bashfully. Jaemin looked to Taeyong, frowning slightly. 

“As in, when he tied me to the bed, my wrists never hurt,” he stared at the floor, “he tied the ropes tight, but not tight enough to leave marks. When he...you know...he made sure he never hurt me.” He tilted his head back. “Like, he’d prepare me properly, he’d hold me and touch me like I was glass.” He closed his eyes. “Like if he pressed too hard, I’d crack. He was careful with me. He fed me well, but...” he trailed off, swallowing. “I got sick.” 

Mark frowned. “And how long do you think you were there for before you got sick?” 

“A few months at best. It was nearing Christmas I believe,” Jaemin cocked his head to one side, thinking. “He was feeding me well, but I got...well, sick. I threw up everything I ate. I was malnourished. I was dying.” He smiled bitterly. “Christmas passed, and the new year came. He told me that I was going to die. That it was his fault I was going to die.” He inhaled shakily. “I tried to get him to take me to a hospital, but he refused. 

“Then...one day, I think in March, he came into the basement with someone I didn’t recognise. He moved me to the other part of the basement and laid me on the ground. I couldn’t move, I was too weak. So, I just lay there. Then the man came over me.” Jaemin blinked. “I don’t remember exactly what happened, but I vaguely remember him spouting random words that I didn’t understand. He also cut me open.” He swallowed thickly. 

Jeno’s frown deepened, and he squeezed Jaemin’s knee. Jaemin didn’t react. 

“I just remember being in pain. So much pain.” Jaemin was still, voice small. “I was screaming. I was hurting. It was all blurry. Then...nothing.” 

“You blacked out?” Jeno asked, raising a brow. Jaemin shook his head. 

“No, I died.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m gonna end it here cause I’m a bitch. Boring chapter again...enjoy!  
> Theories? Let me know yours in the comments!
> 
> ALSO I’m making a HISTORY playlist on Apple Music, so y’all should find me and listen to it while reading this~~


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was a person I didn't know anyway  
> She could just  
> Pass by, but why ?  
> I closed my eyes because of love  
> My heart closed too because of that  
> You made me like this
> 
> — “Might Just Die”, HISTORY

**May** **19th,**   **2015**

"No, I died." 

Jeno stared at him with eyes blown wide and mouth agape. Jaemin kept a straight, nonchalant face, completely serious. 

"What...what do you mean 'you died'?" Mark asked, voice tight. He was in shock as well, standing beside the chair where Taeyong sat, the older not seeming phased at all by the boy. 

"I mean, I died." Jaemin snapped, glaring. "I stopped breathing, my heart stopped beating." 

Jeno bit his lip. "How do you know?" 

Jaemin's gaze moved from Mark to rest upon Jeno, softening slightly. "Because I woke up later with no pulse, no breath. I woke up with blood that wasn't mine in my mouth and a disgusting taste on my tongue." Jaemin's gaze dipped to the floor, his voice breaking off. "My captor told me that the man that cut me open was dead." He swallowed thickly, looking nauseated. "B-because I killed and ate him." 

Mark made a choked kind of noise, stepping back away from Jaemin in terror. Jeno scrambled back a bit, his heart leaping into his throat. He felt nauseous. Taeyong didn't react at all. 

"Ah, so that's what you were trying to do to Sicheng," Taeyong commented, rubbing his chin in thought with his gloved fingertips. Jeno looked back to the older in surprise. 

"You...you're not even concerned about Sicheng-hyung?" Jeno asked, anger lacing his voice. Taeyong rolled his eyes. 

"Jeno, when did I ever say that?" Taeyong focussed a cold glare upon the younger male. "Sicheng was my friend." 

"Wait...what do you mean 'was'?" Mark asked, voice shaky. Taeyong's eyes widened, before they dropped to the floor. "...hyung? Did Sicheng-hyung...?" 

Taeyong frowned, crossing one leg delicately over the other. "Unfortunately, the wounds from Jaemin's attacks were far too great for Sicheng to ever recover from." 

The room went silent, Jaemin just staring at the tiled floor blankly. 

Then, Taeyong spoke, "Jaemin, the man that you had killed, what exactly had he done to you?" Jeno looked up to glance back at Taeyong, before focusing his gaze back on Jaemin. The boy remained staring at the floor. 

Jaemin bit his lip, trying to think. "I was told that it was a ritual of some sort." 

"A ritual?" Mark questioned, raising one eyebrow. "I feel like you're making some of this shit up." 

Jaemin glared up at Mark, his gaze dark. "Alright then, smart-ass," the boy growled, "explain why I'm still 'alive' after seventy years of being missing? Explain why I attack and eat people mindlessly with no recollection whatsoever afterwards? Because I'd love to know!" 

Mark snapped his lips shut as tight as a pair of tongs, eyes flitting elsewhere. Jeno glanced at the older, then cast his gaze back to Jaemin. 

"So, you're a zombie," Jeno breathed, and Jaemin cocked his head to one side in confusion. 

"A zombie? What's that?" Jaemin asked, tone confused. 

"How on earth do you not know what a zombie is?" Mark asked in shock, eyes comically wide. Taeyong sighed deeply, rubbing his temple in irate with his gloved fingertips. 

"Mark, I love you, but God you're dumb," Taeyong muttered, scowling. "Zombies weren't a 'thing' until 1968 after George A. Romero's classic film, Night of the Living Dead." Taeyong then furrowed his brows in thought. "Well, the English term 'zombie' was first recorded in 1819, but it wasn't really introduced to Korea until the mid-twentieth century." Taeyong looked up to stare at Jaemin who still looked unbelievably confused. "A zombie is an undead or reanimated corpse usually brought back to life involving magic or voodoo of some sort." 

Mark stared at Taeyong incredulously. "You know like everything, don't you?" 

Taeyong sighed, looking at Mark with a tired look. He then looked at Jaemin once again. "I think your captor wanted you to be immortal or something, so he found someone to perform some sort of voodoo ritual to kill you then bring you back. But, it ultimately backfired." 

"Clearly," Jaemin muttered to himself. "I had no recollection of killing the man." Jaemin frowned. "I couldn't feel anything, no emotion, no senses. He'd still have his way with me, but I felt nothing." He went quiet. "...nothing at all." 

Jeno looked at Jaemin with an unreadable gaze, his heart aching for the boy. 

"I can't feel pleasure, pain, the pressure of someone's hand on me," Jaemin whispered, voice cracking, "I can't smell anything, taste anything..." he swallowed thickly. "I can't cry either. There were so many times I just wanted to feel the wetness of tears on my cheeks and taste the salt on my tongue but...nothing." 

Jeno reached out to Jaemin, the younger's eyes following the movement. His hand rested on Jaemin's knee once again, and the boy twitched slightly, catching Jeno off-guard. 

"I thought you said you couldn't feel anything?" Jeno asked, gaze moving so he stared Jaemin in the eye. "Or can you only 'feel' something if you're looking at it?" 

"I guess so." Jaemin shrugged. "I guess because I can see your hand touching me, I can imagine the pressure of your hand on my leg." He dropped his head down, brown hair hanging over his eyes. "I can't explain it." 

Jeno nodded, and silence enveloped the four males in the room. Jaemin looked up, gaze shifting between the two detectives and nurse. He tilted his head to one side, locking his gaze with Jeno. 

"So...you said you were new detectives, yes? You and Mark?" Jaemin asked out of the blue, curious. It was strange, Jaemin was now acting as though he wasn't bound with his arms pressed to his sides and neck chained to the wall; as though he hadn't killed someone. He was acting like they were old friends catching up over coffee. Jeno just guessed that Jaemin was morbidly curious. 

"Uh...yeah," Jeno swallowed nervously, glancing back at Mark. "Mark and I both recently graduated separate universities, and this is our...third day on the job as detectives?" 

Jaemin raised his eyebrows, "Only your third? And you found me within three days despite no-one finding me in seventy years?" 

Jeno nodded stiffly. "I...we interviewed Huang Renjun." 

Jaemin froze, his eyes widening like saucers. "Renjun? H-he's still alive?" 

Jeno nodded once again, noticing how Jaemin's eyes quivered, like he was going to cry. But, from what Jaemin said before, he knew the boy couldn't cry even if he wanted to. 

"We interviewed him and from that, Jeno pieced together a few things and..." Mark trailed off, glancing at Jeno. "...well, he figured out where you, or a lead, could be. And by himself, the dickhead searched the house in the middle of the fucking night and lo and behold, there you were." Mark grumbled. "And now I'm fucking tired as fuck because some retard couldn't wait until morning to look." 

Jaemin blinked at Mark, a little awestruck at the colourful words the older used. 

"Don't mind the seagull, he's just a little grumpy." Taeyong snickered, and Mark shot him a dirty look in which the older ignored. 

"How old are you?" Jaemin asked, also ignoring Mark and tilting his head to one side curiously. 

It must be twenty questions or something. Jeno thought to himself. "I'm twenty-one." Jeno answered. "Mark turns twenty-two in August." 

"I'm twenty-eight." Taeyong smiled slightly, and Jaemin's jaw dropped. 

"You're twenty-eight? You look so young though!" Jaemin gasped, and Taeyong waved his hand to brush the compliment off. 

"I've always had youthful looks." He mumbled, and Mark rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, you've always looked like a twelve-year-old." 

Taeyong shot the younger yet another dirty look, slapping him on the arm. Jaemin laughed, eyes crinkling in the cutest way. His smile was so broad, so bright. His laugh was so sweet and light—it made Jeno's heart flutter.

"So how do you three know each other?" Jaemin looked between the three. "You guys seem to have close relations to one-another." 

Mark and Jeno exchange a look. "Well, Jeno and I went to high school together," Mark rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "we had a fight when he was accepted into the university I wanted to get into but never did, and we ended up not speaking for years." 

"Oh," Jaemin murmured quietly, and Mark frowned. 

"We've made up now, don't worry," Jeno reassured, smiling brightly. Jaemin smiled a little too. "For Taeyong-hyung, he was our maths tutor in high school." He grinned a little. "I guess we just reunited again after Mark and I became partners at the police station." 

Jaemin nodded, now going silent. Jeno thought he must've said something wrong, and he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong when Jaemin spoke instead. "H-how was Injunie?" 

It took Jeno a second to realise that 'Injunie' was Renjun, and he frowned. "He's well. Old, but well." 

"He's in his late eighties now, isn't he?" Jaemin murmured, voice barely audible. "I can't believe he's...well, so old." He chuckled darkly, humourlessly. "He probably had forgotten about me until you brought me back up when you interviewed him." 

"That's not true," Jeno said softly, sending Jaemin a gentle gaze. "He thought about you every day, mourned for you every day. He misses you." 

Jaemin dipped his head, hunching his shoulders. "Why did it have to be me that had to suffer?" He asked, voice almost inaudible. "Why did I have to be raped and murdered only to be brought back and locked inside a fucking coffin to rot for seventy fucking years?" He cried, voice dripping with anger. "I shouldn't be here, I should have grown old and had a family! I should have graduated school and watched the end of the war! But no!" He brought his knees to his chest, his body bending awkwardly because of his arms pinned to his sides. 

Jeno frowned sadly, feeling his heart grow heavy with all the agonising words leaving Jaemin's red lips. The boy was robbed of his life way too soon, not being able to accomplish any of his dreams nor reach any of his goals. It made Jeno just want to go back in time and prevent all of this pain and torture from ever happening to Jaemin. 

"My parents died not knowing my fate, and all my friends moved on with their lives while I was trapped in a fucking coffin!" He buried his face into his knees, screaming. 

Jeno felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up. It was Taeyong. The older crouched down beside Jeno, shooting the younger a gentle yet stern look. 

"Just move back for a second. He's going into hysterics." Taeyong mumbled, gesturing with his head for Jeno to stand beside Mark. Jeno obeyed, shooting one sympathetic look to the bound boy against the wall. Taeyong turned to face Jaemin completely, kneeling in front of the boy. Jeno stood by Mark, watching the nurse and the boy with a disconsolate stare.  

"What do you think Taeyong-hyung is going to do?" Mark leant over to whisper in Jeno's ear, gaze still on the two males before them. Jeno stayed silent, otherwise ignoring Mark. 

"Jaemin, you need to calm down, okay?" Taeyong whispered, and Jaemin just looked up at him, shooting him a piercing glare. 

"Calm down?!" Jaemin shouted, causing Jeno to flinch at the ferocity of it. "I'm a fucking dead person having an existential crisis because I shouldn't fucking be here and you're telling me to calm down?!" Jaemin lashed out at Taeyong, twisting in his chains, trying to lunge at the older. 

Jeno stepped forwards to try and step in and stop Jaemin from attacking Taeyong, but Mark just snatched his wrist and yanked him back. Jeno turned his head to look back at Mark, and the older just stared back with a worried gaze, eyes dipping to the wounds littering Jeno's arm from his encounter with Jaemin earlier. 

"Don't, please," Mark pleaded, "you're still hurt." Jeno felt his wounds throb, reminding him that they were still there. Deep scratches and a poorly patched-up stab wound marked his right arm. All caused by Jaemin. 

"I'm not supposed to be here either, Jaemin." Taeyong spoke softly, and both Jeno and Mark's gazes snapped to the older man. Jaemin went quiet but was still fuming. 

"Bullshit. You don't know what I've gone through. Nobody does." Jaemin seethed. "I should be dead." 

Taeyong inhaled sharply, "So should I." 

Silence. It was so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. Jeno felt his jaw fall slack, eyes widening in astonishment, and he just knew Mark was mirroring his actions. Jaemin went rigid, his own eyes wide, lips agape. 

Taeyong sighed softly, glancing back at Jeno and Mark, before returning his gaze to Jaemin. "My circumstances were similar yet different to yours." He gingerly touched at the scar sitting below his right eye with his gloved fingertips, gaze straying to the floor. "Before I was Lee Taeyong, I was someone else who befell the same circumstances as you. He was lured, kidnapped, raped and murdered before his body was dumped in the woods." His gaze slowly moved back up to rest on Jaemin's own gaze, the younger now motionless. "As soon as his eyes closed, I opened my eyes as Lee Taeyong." He tilted his head to one side. "So, no, I shouldn't be here. At all. If he never died, I wouldn't exist. Or, at least, my soul would not exist." 

Jaemin blinked, his eyes averting to stare blankly at the floor. "But...how?" 

Taeyong shrugged, "I guess I evaded Death's clutches," he grinned slightly. He looked down at his gloved hand, reaching with his other hand to tug at the cloth. He pulled the glove off, his bony hand finally touching the light. "Kind of like you." 

Jeno had never seen Taeyong's bare hands; he'd worn gloves as long as he had known Taeyong. His hands were thin, soft, and pale. The older reached up with his bare hand to gently touch Jaemin's cheek. Taeyong's eyes fluttered closed, and Jaemin just stared blankly, seemingly blind. 

It was still and silent for a good minute until Taeyong gasped loudly, yanking his hand away from Jaemin's skin like he was burnt. He scrambled to his feet, panting heavily. 

"You..." Taeyong choked out, the younger still staring blankly at nothing. He turned to Jeno and Mark, storming past them. "Both of you, we're done in here. Come with me. Now." 

"W-wait, hyung—" Jeno stuttered, but broke off when Taeyong shot him a look, one akin to that of anger and panic. The three males briskly walked out of the bleak white room and into the hallway, Taeyong shooting one last glance at Jaemin as he closed the door and locked it behind him. Jeno peered over Taeyong's shoulder into the room—Jaemin was still staring blankly, frozen in place. 

"Hyung, what was that?!" Mark questioned, throwing his arm out and gesturing to the locked room. Jeno was highly confused and was in desperate need of answers. "You're not a zombie too, are you?" 

Taeyong shot him a dirty look, "No, I'm not dead, Mark. I'm one hundred percent alive." 

"Then what do you mean you died?" Jeno queried sourly, glaring down at the slightly shorter male. 

"It was a past life, have neither of you heard of reincarnation?" Taeyong asked bitterly, glancing between the two younger males. Jeno and Mark exchanged blank and confused glances before looking back to Taeyong. Said male rubbed his temples in irate before slipping his glove back onto his naked hand. "Clearly not, by the blank looks on your faces." 

"But—that's impossible, Hyung!" Mark exclaimed. 

Taeyong snorted, "Mark, you and Jeno both saw a zombie trying to eat someone. I think in this world, reincarnation isn't that far-fetched." 

Jeno pondered this for a moment. The older male definitely wasn't wrong about that, but it was still pretty mind-boggling. Only three days ago, Jeno thought that nothing could surprise him in this world anymore; but that ship has since sailed. 

"Okay but what about the gloves? I thought you wore them because you were mysophobic!" Mark yelled, throwing his arm out to gesture to the black gloves on Taeyong's hands. Taeyong sighed. 

"Well, I lied," he mumbled, "whatever I touch, I see visions." Taeyong explained quietly. "Objects, animals, humans. Not pleasant visions—evil ones that befell the item, animal or person." He scrubbed at his face, exhaling slowly. "Like, I can see one's death, or any bad thing that has occurred in their life." Taeyong looked up, staring Jeno in the eye, frowning deeply. "I saw Jaemin's death, and what followed. To keep Jaemin...'human', his captor would bring him people to kill and eat." 

Jeno felt his mouth go dry, his stomach doing flips in nauseating feats. "What?" 

Taeyong stared at the ground. "His captor would kidnap people, mostly children, and lock them in the basement with Jaemin. Jaemin would lose control and proceed to kill and eat them. This was to keep Jaemin like he was with us just then—'human'." He blinked, raising his gaze once again. "Jaemin would still be out of control if he didn't take a bite out of Sicheng. But, it was only a bite. He's going to go crazy again soon, but I don't know when." He bit his lip, "From what I saw, he'd go crazy when his 'meals' wore off, which were about three to four weeks apart." 

Jeno tried to swallow this information, his head spinning. He stumbled to the wall, leaning his side against it. He scrubbed a hand through his black hair, letting it rest on his forehead. The skin pulsed beneath his fingers, a painful headache throbbing. Jeno glanced down at his right arm, gaze washing over his bloodied and gauzed arm, feeling nauseated. 

"Jeno, shit, are you okay?" Mark's voice was blurry, so far away. He barely felt a hand on his shoulder before the ground was rushing towards him and black consuming his vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma just leave it here for y'all :)
> 
> Sorry this is a bit of a confusing chapter, I just had to set a few things into motion. For one, I had to introduce Taeyong's "powers" and past. I also had to explain a little about Jaemin and what he is, and Jeno, Mark and Taeyong's relations to one another. And yeah, sadly, Sicheng is dead ~ someone had to die and unfortunately he's the one I chose 
> 
> Sorry this took so long, I've been so exhausted because I've been working A LOT more and I'm just so tired. And plus, these chapters take a long time to write. They're usually 3000+ words and I often backtrack and retype A LOT. 
> 
> Anyways, any theories? Let me know in the comments! I'm curious to know your thoughts on Jaemin and Taeyong's past, plus who Jaemin's captor could be :) don't be afraid to let me know! ...Let Me Know by BTS is a bop actually...
> 
> \- Kenny x

**Author's Note:**

> Hello y’all I’m back and writing yet another new story!! I’m not good at finishing stories lmao...
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: 
> 
> GORE, HORROR, MENTIONS OF UNDERAGE SEX, SEX, CUSSING, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, DRUG USE, ZOMBIE, STALKER, RAPE AND MENTIONS OF RAPE
> 
> YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!
> 
> final note: this takes place in a fictional town, just because it is easier for me to write. I am imagining the town to be a mix of America, South Korea and Australia. 
> 
> It'll be set in the Samdeok-dong (neighbourhood) of Jung-gu (district) in Daegu, South Korea. Addresses or businesses used are completely fictional. Historic content (like the underground gay clubs in the 40s, also church stuff) based off Australian history and is NOT accurate. I hope this won't be too confusing. 


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